Il Mio Santuario
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: At Ferdinant Lukes, there is a gap in the wall that houses a statue of the Virgin Mary, with space on either side. Here, a lonely boy escapes to read his Bible and find sanctuary. However, there's always been room for two...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing._

**Il Mio ****Santuario**

Rossella Maxwell placed the colander in the sink and opened the window. Hesitantly, she held out her willowy hand over the _fiori_, splashes of bright color in full mid-summer bloom. As the tall, dark-haired woman waited with hand outstretched, the smell of steaming pasta drew her eight-year-old son to the kitchen. The violet-eyed youth, noting his mother's distraction, quickly snuck over to the table and silently pilfered a _rigatoni_.

A drop of water landed on Rossella's palm with a splash, and she shook it off, withdrew her hand, and closed the window. "Enrico," she sighed. "Don't go to Feli's house today, _va bene_? It's going to rain..."

Rossella turned around just as Enrico was about to stuff another _rigatoni_ into his mouth. Caught in the act, there was nothing the child could do but stand there, smiling innocently. Rossella laughed, and tenderly wiped a stray bit of _ricotta_ off of her son's cheek. "Try to wait until dinner, _mio piccolo ladro_," she said jokingly.

Enrico blushed; he didn't like it much when his mother called him her little thief. "Si, Mamma. I... I was just making sure they tasted okay."

Rossella smiled knowingly. "Of course you were. Hold on, I'll have the sauce ready soon."

Rossella was a single mother, and everyone in their neighborhood knew it; however, no one ever said so to Enrico. Rossella didn't want her son to grow up thinking he was any worse than anyone else because his father was married to another woman, so she told him that his father had gone off to fight in the war and never returned. The family's neighbors pitied Rossella, so they never made any effort to abolish this fantasy. As for little Enrico, he never thought much about his father. As far as he was concerned he'd never had one, and this didn't bother him in the slightest. Nor did it ever cross his mind that he looked nothing like his mother; she was his mamma, she loved him more than anything else, and that was enough for both of them.

Enrico sat at the table patiently and waited for his food. Rossella's cooking was the best anyone in the neighborhood had ever tasted, and Enrico lorded this over his friend Feliciano like some boys lord over their father's burliness. The two boys were thick as thieves, and they spent so much time at each other's houses that they each had their own key to the other's house. Enrico had wanted to go over to Feli's house after supper, but it seemed his mother wasn't going to let him.

He played with his fork absentmindedly. "Why does it have to rain?" he grumbled. "I mean, other than making things grow. Plants can just get water from the ground, can't they?"

Rossella carried the saucepan over to the table and began layering the sauce over the _rigatoni_. "Well, it rains because of the angels," she said.

Enrico looked up, confused. "The angels?"

Rossella nodded. "Si, the angels. Whenever it rains, that means the angels are crying."

"Oh." Enrico started putting _rigatoni_ onto his plate. "Why are they crying?"

Rossella pulled out a chair and sat down. "They're crying for all the lonely boys and girls who don't have parents, or a nice home to live in. They're all very, very sad."

Enrico started cutting his food into sections. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

Rossella smiled tenderly. "Me too."

Suddenly, someone began violently banging on the door. Rossella stood up to go open it. "Now who could that be..?"

"Open up, Rossella!" a man screamed from outside. "Open this door now, _puttana_! You filthy _adultero_!"

Rossella gasped, but did not cry out. Enrico stood up. "Mamma, what's wrong?" As his mother turned to face him, Enrico noticed that tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Mamma, why are you crying?"

Rossella shushed her son, opened the cupboard under the sink, and placed him inside. "Enrico, no matter what happens, you must stay in here and not make a noise, _capire_?"

The banging increased ferociously. "Rossella, I know you're in there! Open up now or I will tear this door down!"

Enrico nodded. "Mamma, I'm scared."

Rossella held him in her arms. "Ssh, don't be scared. Everything will be alright."

She closed the cupboard doors and hurried over to open the door. It was pouring now, and as soon as she undid the latch, the door flew open to reveal a tall man, well-dressed, and soaked through. Enrico opened the cupboard door just a crack, enough so he could see what has going on. The man had silver hair, violet eyes, and carried an expensive suitcase that suggested he was a lawyer, and well-to-do at that. As soon as the door was open, he stormed into the little house and slammed the door behind him. His face was red, and he smelled like liquor.

"Rossella!" he screamed. "You have ruined me, do you hear? Ruined me! Do you have any idea what my wife did to me when she found out?"

"Arturo," Rossella replied fearfully, attempting to calm the man down. "Please relax. I have just made dinner, perhaps you would like some-"

"Shut up!" Arturo screamed, and slapped her across the face. "Where's the brat, _puttana_? Where is he? Tell me! Tell me, _puttana_!"

"What brat?" Rossella gasped, cradling her cheek. "There is no child here."

"Lies!" Arturo hefted his suitcase and bludgeoned her with it.

Enrico, too afraid to cry out, watched with wide eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks as the drunken man continued beat Rossella with his suitcase. "_Aiuto_," he sobbed. "_Aiuto, Gesu!_"

Rossella fell to the floor, and Arturo started kicking her. Blood was seeping from her head where the corner of the suitcase had broken the skin; Arturo was beating her to death.

"Get up, _puttana_!" he screamed. "Get up or die!"

Rossella writhed on the floor, helpless before Arturo's endless barrage. She strained and twisted her head around to face the cupboard in which her son was hiding. Her eyes met his, and she smiled weakly before mouthing the words, 'I love you'. Then she closed her eyes, let her head rest on the floor, and became still.

Arturo, however, continued to beat the body. When he finally realized Rossella was dead, he let out a feral howl and stormed out of the house just as quickly as he had come.

Enrico did not move for several minutes. He simply trembled in the darkness of the cupboard, crying pitifully. After a bit of time, he slowly opened the cupboard door and crawled out. Making his way over to his mother's body, he picked up her bloodied head and cradled it in his arms.

"_Aiuto!_" he wailed. "_Aiuto!_" Weeping, Enrico lay down on the floor and rested his head next to his mother's. "I don't want to be alone," he whispered.

-XXXXX-

Three weeks later, Enrico sat in the backseat of a black car. The aging priest he'd met at the courtroom, Father Renaldo, sat on the seat next to him, casting him the occasional fatherly glance every five miles or so. Enrico ignored him and sullenly cradled his knees to his chest.

It had stopped raining a couple of hours after what was now being referred to by the adults around Enrico as "the incident". Feliciano (or "Witness A") had decided to come over to his friend's house to play. Finding the door locked, he'd unlocked it with his key and found Enrico whimpering on the floor next to "the body". He'd immediately run home and brought his mother, who used the Maxwell's phone to call the police. The sergeant had ripped Enrico away from "the body", mumbling something about "contaminating the evidence", and driven him to the police station, where he'd stayed until the trial had ended and they'd found something to do with him.

After about a twenty-five minute drive, the car stopped and the occupants got out. Enrico stood before the driveway to a large building, and a sign that read "Ferdinant Lukes". Waiting to meet him was another priest he'd met at the courtroom; Father Anderson, if he remembered correctly. The man smiled at him, but Enrico didn't smile back.

Father Renaldo came up behind him and gently guided him towards the orphanage. "This is you new 'home'," he said.

Enrico didn't bother to answer him. In a couple of steps, he was standing before Father Anderson. The man was unnaturally tall, and he scared Enrico a little. But the eight-year-old wasn't really capable of being truly afraid of anything anymore, so he stood up tall and looked the priest square in the eye.

"Might the reason I am here," he asked slowly, "and the reason that father and mother do not come get me, be because I am the son of a mistress?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing._

Enrico sat on a bench, quietly reading his Bible, while the other boys ran about and roughhoused on the lawn behind the orphanage. Enrico had resolved not to make friends with any of them; they struck him as a dense, unintelligent lot, a swarm of dolts he didn't want to be associated with. Since coming to the orphanage a year ago, he'd become an arrogant, gloomy child, often prone to sulking and purposely avoiding social contact. He'd spend days sitting in his room or some other quiet, secluded spot, studying or reading his battered KJV. The book had become his life, and he took considerable pride in it. After all, Enrico was the only boy currently residing at Ferdinant Luke's that Father Anderson had trusted with a KJV.

Suddenly, a ball flew from some corner of the lawn and hit Enrico square on the back of the head with a dull thump. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, he looked up and saw the oldest and strongest boy at the orphanage, Mercutio, coming to retrieve the ball.

The fourteen-year-old looked at Enrico and grinned wickedly. "Oops, sorry. Maybe you'd better wake up, _Bibbia Bastardo_."

Mercutio cackled and jogged back to his toadies. Enrico, while indignant, didn't bother to chase after him. Mercutio had been beating on him and calling him a _bastardo_ since he found out that Enrico was the product of adultery. Of course, everyone knew by this point. All the boys had their own reasons for being there, and some were just more embarrassing than others. That was the way things worked.

Father Anderson had found Mercutio in the streets when he was five or six. He hadn't had a name for the longest time, but as he got older he'd named himself. Enrico wasn't quite sure where "Mercutio" came from; all he could remember was that it was from a play... or something like that.

Enrico flipped through his Bible, trying to remember what passage he'd been reading.

"Mark 25...or was it 26?" he mumbled to himself. "Stupid Mercutio, never leaves me alone..."

Suddenly, he heard voices coming from the front of the orphanage, voices he'd never heard before. Instantly curious, he held his Bible in the crook of his arm and scrambled over to the orphanage wall. Cautiously poking his head around the corner, he saw Father Anderson and Father Renaldo talking to a strange grown-up man in a suit. They weren't raising their voices, but Enrico could tell from Father Anderson's stance that he was tense. Being only nine, he couldn't quite fathom what Anderson was so worked up over, but he assumed whoever this stranger was, he must have done something bad.

Enrico was about to turn around and head back to his bench, but he noticed something he hadn't seen before out of the corner of his eye. He looked back towards the gate, and saw a young girl standing next to the stranger. Enrico hadn't seen any girls his age since coming to the orphanage; thus, the girl seemed almost like an alien from some other planet, something strange and foreign that probably liked dolls and definitely had cooties.

The girl was dressed in a white blouse and a blue skirt, and she wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that gave her a bookish appearance. Her long, blond hair rustled ever so slightly in the breeze, and her bright blue eyes were wide open, taking in all the sights of the orphanage with curiosity and wonder.

Enrico stepped out from behind the wall without even realizing what he was doing. He just couldn't stop staring at that girl. His mind had gone completely blank; all he could do was stand there, watching her.

The girl happened to glance to her left, and she noticed his gaze. For a moment her eyes met his, and they both gaped at each other, as curious children do. Then, she smiled at him and waved.

Enrico waved back timidly, barely getting his hand above his shoulders. Then he realized what he was doing, and immediately dropped his hand and darted back behind the wall. "I can't be seen with a girl," he muttered. "Mercutio'll get me for sure..."

However, it was already too late. Enrico felt a pair of hands grasp his shoulders and pin him to the wall. When he looked up, he found himself staring into Mercutio's face.

The older boy smirked. "Easy there, _bastardo_. I know you're anxious, but not every girly's a _puttana_ like your mommy. Some of 'em don't appreciate little twerps creeping on them."

Enrico turned beet red, and fought hard to keep from crying. "Leave me alone, Mercutio," he said through gritted teeth. He stood up as tall as he could and made as if to simply brush the other boy aside and leave. "I have to study. I can't be bothered with dirty street urchins."

Mercutio's cronies, who were standing a couple of feet off, suddenly went deathly silent. The smirk disappeared from Mercutio's face, and his eyes narrowed. "You'll pay for that, twerp," he spat, and drew back his fist.

Before he let it fly, however, Mercutio stopped and lowered his fist. "Ah, why waste my time? It's not like anyone cares about you, anyway. You're nothing, just a whore's son. The world would probably be better off without you... and it's certainly better off without that filthy mother of yours." And he laughed.

Enrico started to tremble, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. Suddenly, he lunged at Mercutio with a yell, and knocked the other boy to the ground. Without even really realizing what he was doing, Enrico started punching him in the face. He laid blow after blow on him until Mercutio's nose bled.

Finally, Mercutio's posse, who had been strangely immobilized up until this point, scrambled over and pulled Enrico off of their leader, who immediately jumped to his feet and wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve.

Mercutio strode over to Enrico, and slugged him square in the jaw. Enrico fell to the ground, and looked up to see Mercutio looming over him and smirking.

"Trying to pick a fight, _bastardo_? Alright, I'll give you one." He drew back his arm to strike again, and Enrico closed his eyes.

"Hey, stop! What do you think you're doing?"

Enrico opened his eyes to find the girl standing between him and Mercutio, hands on her hips and feet planted firmly apart. She'd spoken in English, with a very strong British accent, which meant that most of the boys hadn't understood a word. Her meaning was clear enough, though.

Mercutio, though startled at first by this foreigner, had quickly recovered and regained his smirk. "Wow, Enrico," he said in mock admiration. "This babe hasn't even been here five minutes and you've already got her reeled in! Standing up for you and everything! You're good, _bastardo_. Maybe you should go work a corner. Probably makes more money than brown-nosing, huh?"

Enrico looked up at Mercutio and his laughing cronies, and felt bitter tears well in his eyes and begin their descent down his cheeks.

The girl looked down at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

Enrico jumped to his feet and sprinted off sobbing, Mercutio's laughter ringing in his ears. He ran to the left side yard of the orphanage and crawled up onto the wall, drawing his knees to his chest.

The stone wall on this side of the orphanage was interrupted by a long, rectangular, box-shaped alcove, which housed a statue of the Virgin Mary in its center. There was just enough room on her right side for Enrico to crawl up next to her and escape the tragedies of life. He came here often; it had become his only safe haven.

He sat on the ledge, curled into a ball, and just let all the tears he'd been holding back burst forth. There was no need for him to do anything except sit there and cry. Years could have passed for all he cared.

However, after only a couple of minutes, he heard footsteps rounding the corner from the back lawn. Looking up through eyes blurred by tears, he saw the girl, and immediately hid his head between his knees.

The girl made her way over to the alcove and hopped up onto the other side of the statue. She leaned over to her right and looked at him. "What's your name?" she asked, in an almost commanding tone.

Enrico sniffled. "_Vaffanculo_."

The girl looked confused. "That's an odd name."

Enrico brought his head up and rolled his eyes at her. He knew enough English to understand what she was asking him, and just enough to respond appropriately. However, he wasn't exactly in the mood for politeness. "That is not my name. It means, 'screw you.' Go away."

The girl huffed indignantly. "That's not any way to talk to a lady!"

Enrico looked at her quizzically. "You are not a lady. You are a girl!"

The girl glared at him. "I am a lady! I'm Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing! My father's been knighted," she added, almost as an afterthought. "He's doing very important work, and he brought me along with him. What does your father do?"

Enrico stared out at the lawn. "Do not have one. Why do you care?"

Integral looked shocked. "No father? That's horrible! Who helps you fix things, or plays cricket with you, or reads you bedtime stories?"

Enrico looked over at her; she seemed genuinely distressed. He sighed. "My Mamma used to tell me stories. What is 'cricket'?"

Integral didn't even bother to answer his question. "You have a mum? What's she like? I never had a mum... Father won't tell me anything about her."

Enrico shook his head angrily. How stupid could this girl be? Didn't she know what an orphanage was? "No Mamma, either, _sciocco_," he said, anxious to get off the subject.

Integral looked baffled. "How can you..." Suddenly, she seemed to realize something, and trailed off. "Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"_Lo ti perdono_," he mumbled. He sighed and translated when he got nothing but a blank stare. "I forgive you." After a moment's thought, he added, "Please leave. I want to be alone."

Integral looked at him sadly. "Alright." She jumped down from the alcove and started walking back towards the back lawn.

Suddenly, Enrico thought of something. "_Aspetta!_ W- Wait!"

Integral turned around. "Yes?"

Enrico blushed, and mumbled, "_Grazie._"

Integral smiled. "You're welcome!" She trotted off, around the corner, and was gone.

Enrico watched her go, not quite sure what to think of the encounter. He opened his Bible and pulled a pen from his pocket. He flipped to the inside back cover and wrote in clumsy handwriting before closing the book and walking around to the front of the orphanage to go back inside.

Later, as he grew older, he would often wonder why he'd written in his Bible that day. Perhaps the girl had left an impression on him, or perhaps he'd simply wanted to remember the experience; he couldn't know for sure. In any case, he'd written down a name.

Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.


End file.
